


Tomorrow, My Love

by Ellisaed



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Babysitting Obi, Death, Death in Childbirth, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, Padawan Obi-Wan, Sad Obi-Wan, Sadness, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:51:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellisaed/pseuds/Ellisaed
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi receives his first solo task from his Master Qui-Gon Jinn at the finish of their mission on the hostile planet of Meronia. The Padawan nervously accepts the responsibility, little knowing of the hardship and struggle awaiting him deep inside the Meronian caves, present in the most unlikely of forms.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Here is a little fic that I have written since my very early Star Wars days that is very dear to my heart. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan will always be my favourite pair, and this fic takes place pre-Phantom Menace Era. There is lots of sadness within, so be forewarned. Please enjoy!

The sharp crack, like a thunderstruck, plucked nerves with its coarse undertone, hinting urgency anew in the boy. When it reoccurred, despite his misgivings, he knew it could not be ignored. Response was haggard through fatigued senses, pained muscles, aching bones, but it was a response nonetheless. The boy lifted his bowed head and braced arms to kneel, to watch longingly. He wiped sweat from his brow, feeling the pebbles tumble more frequently upon him, like the tears rolling down her cheeks. He reached and tucked her safely, closer to the embrace of the alcove, the soothing darkness and clay rich air. Nothing could soothe her, though. Nothing but him.

The youth touched her cheek. It was warm with fever and soft like the richest of Corellia's fine fabrics, smooth like a well-worn river stone. A hand extended and grabbed his own for dear, frail life, fail like the breaths he breathed. The other tiny hand was trapped, pinned beneath the weight of too many, unsavable. The stones had sealed her fate, and they would him too if he remained any longer. He could not stay, but how could he leave her?

The crack insisted her doom, the rumbling of the caves like a funeral knell. The boy ignored it for only a last moment, leaning close to the small ear, hushing the tiny pained wails and whispering the lullaby in an ever-so-soft nuance:

"So'ru ie lien

So'ru et lie

So'ru ie bien

So'ru ie bie

I'soru ie bien

Ie li'ru e li

I'caru ie bien

Bi'soru fie ri."

 

_"With sorrow, I'll live_

With sorrow, I'll die

With sorrow, my love,

Much sorrow, goodbye.

No sorrow, my love,

I give unto thee

Tomorrow, my love,

I will live then for thee."

A whimper was heard at his withdrawal, but he feared lingering would destroy him. He rose quickly, giving no more hesitation, fighting tears but failing. His heart tore like a fiercely strained muscle at the resounding crack, rocks tumbling around him in a rush of noise mingled with the faint cries behind him. He limped faster then, stumbling but pressing on angrily, until it went deathly, horribly silent. He turned to see the tunnel caved, enclosed completely with rubble and debris, boulders like gravestones then. The youth heard a strained, agonized cry, unaware it was his own, and it echoed in the very reaches of the caves and the corners of his crushed soul.

What had he done?


	2. The Task

Obi-Wan Kenobi shifted his lightsaber in his sweaty grip again, panting controlled breaths into the smoke veiled air around him. A blast heard in and seen touching down in the distance reignited Obi-Wan's anxiety that he fought to keep at bay, and he shifted his blue blade once more, turning to face the crowd behind him, "Stay close! Huddle as close as you can!"

The citizens quieted at his voice, passing the message along in whispers to those too far to hear the youth's exclamation, and communally stepped their haggard, starving bodies closer. Obi-Wan was discouraged at their visible fatigue, feeling his own begin to set in deeper, and hated how he treated them like a nerf herd. He fought to avoid the desperate eyes of the men, and though he was unsure himself, he called out reassuringly, "Help will arrive soon! Soon, you will be safe!"

Some nodded, other cursed and searched the sky like Obi-Wan had been doing, and continued to do. _Hurry, Master._

Through the obscurity of sky the orangey horizon spread out and hit the scarlet-black sky, tufts of cruel smoke clouds billowing and hiding the tiny setting sun. The smoke originated from the fires eating at the twig-like patches of trees, but truly fro the blasts still heard in the distance that was growing closer by the minute; ash and dust had become like a second skin to the boy, as well as sweat and humidity. The heat formed a covering blanket to it all, smelling of sulfur and fuel and smoke and fear. Most strongly of fear.

Out of the distance, four small cruisers were seen high above the haze just as one citizen let out a cry, and a round of relieved applause ensued. Obi-Wan waved his saber as a beacon, smiling to himself. _Better late than never, Master_.

The Padawan was glad their mission was nearly at an end; it had been especially harrowing, more so than expected, but he would have rather done it than attend a weeks worth of political meetings or benefit banquets. Obi-Wan felt his best at work with the people, as did his Master even more than him, and it was where he felt useful and skilled and needed.

Obi-Wan and his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, had spent their last two weeks on the Outer Rim planet of Meronia, living with refugees under the oppression of a tyrant slave trader and mastermind by the name of Valor Quon. Their task had been to uncover his masqueraded plan to capture the citizens of the sparsely populated planet and sell them illegally on the slave markets of Tatooine. Quon, they had learned, was smart and also Force sensitive, so their escape strategy had required effort. Qui-Gon had mentioned that part of what made Quon so successful was his ability to sense beings and their intent, whether he was aware of his sensitivity of not. He had also mentioned, with a clever wink, that despite his ability, he was no match for the Jedi.

The two had been able to pinpoint Valor's attack date, with some help from a pieced together comm system, and were so far successful in the shuttling of refugees of planet before the attack was in motion. Republic forces had agreed to assist them, and had so far rescued half of the population; the remaining half, women and children, had been hidden safely high in the Meronian Mountains, in precaution to a thwarted plan. Though they had only a few hours remaining until the assault began, Obi-Wan was confident their mission would soon be accomplished.

Whipping dust stung on his skin and blurred in his eyes, picking up as the ships downed around them a few feet away; Obi-Wan waited for the tan pillow to clear a bit before seeing the Republic troops exit and go straight to work gathering the crowd and ushering them into the ships. A tall, broad figure emerged amidst them, waving a green blade to help the men along. Obi-Wan jogged toward him, holding high his own lightsaber and gathering group of citizens to follow.

Qui-Gon stood at the landing ramp, face drawn until he met eyes with Obi-Wan, and he smiled gently as he approached, greying tan hair whipping with the wind around him. He said over the commotion once the boy reached his side, "There you are." His deep tone had always brought a familiar comfort to the Padawan.

"Here I've been," Obi-Wan looked up slightly, as he always did, to his Master, wondering if he would always have to. Maybe not physically, but reverently. "Any outgoing transmissions detected?"

Qui-Gon denied such with a shake of his head, slipping his hands into opposite sleeves, "None that our scanners can pick up, not even encoded ones. It is a mystery how Quon has managed to evade us still."

"He is good at that, if anything." Obi-Wan followed his Master, clasping his hands together hidden in his long robes, "At least we have a bit of the upper hand, seeing that he is still in Hutt space."

" _If_ he still his, Padawan. All the men are here?"

Obi-Wan nodded, watching the throng of them slowly dissipate into the cruisers, most members grinning in relief at the end of their long struggle. It had not been a pretty situation, hundreds upon hundreds of refugees living in spaces meant for only tens, starved beyond imaginable and malnourished due to poor sustenance.

Obi-Wan hated to see beings in such state, knowing of the abundance of food he always had access to in the Temple, and how often he gripped about such. He wondered how amidst their drear they not only managed to endure but also made him feel their hopefulness just as bright as it burned in them. Such circumstances seen on missions put things into perspective for the boy, snapping him back to the reality of the galaxy and changing him inside.

Obi-Wan sighed, turning back to his Master, "I am glad this ordeal is nearly through."

"Not for long, unfortunately. The Council has already summoned us in our absence; another 'quarry' on Naboo needing to be handled." Qui-Gon rolled his eyes, and Obi-Wan asked the question in a dismayed tone, though he knew the answer.

"Politics?"

"Politics. A petty administrative gathering, I'm guessing, nothing a good argument cannot handle." The Master's statement was not entirely false, whether he realized it or not, "But that is then. Now, our current mission –"

"May I ask what took you?" Obi-Wan spoke lightly, though he truly did wonder what the delay had been - if there had been one.

Qui-Gon wrinkled his face a bit, blue eyes bright with mischief, "What do you mean, my apprentice? I arrived, didn't I?"

"Well, yes, but much after you informed me you would."

"Well, someone forgot to comm with the coordinates."

Obi-Wan smiled, "Well, someone else forgot the comm systems are down."

"Well, someone didn't inform me." Qui-Gon folded his arms, hardening his gaze on him and setting his mouth into a frown, "Now, thanks to you, Obi-Wan, we are behind schedule."

Obi-Wan was incredulous at his Masters frustration, "Are . . . are you scolding me?"

"Why do you ask?"

When no jesting leaked through the voice, Obi-Wan lowered his own, "Because it seems so."

Qui-Gon's stern expression broke into another grin, "Mistaken yet again."

Such teasing was not unexpected by Obi-Wan. He had well since grown accustomed to his Master's playfulness, his wit, present even in the most harrowing of circumstances. Why, just yesterday evening, caught in the freezing windstorm that had threatened their entire mission, huddled around a half-functioning space heater in a cellar filled with refugees, Qui-Gon had beckoned the frightened children around his feet and onto his lap and proceeded to tell them a story. Not just any story, of course, the story of the time Obi-Wan had been nervous about a particular Council meeting and had upturned the contents of his breakfast all over the floor.

Though told in broken, inexperienced Meronian, the young ones as well as the adults had giggled heartily, mostly at Obi-Wan's embarrassment. The Padawan had no choice but to laugh along, as he did then at his Masters tease; his headstrong, compassionate, unorthodox Master was not about to change anytime soon.

Qui-Gon's smile still lingered as he asked, "The women and children are still in the mountains?"

"Yes, as far as I know." Obi-Wan turned due north to point to them in the near distance, jutting up from the low cloud of dust surrounding them, "There are eight groups total: three east, four clicks, two west, one click, two south-west, one click, and two north, one click."

Qui-Gon gave him a look, "That's nine, my Padawan."

"Hm?"

"Nine groups."

Obi-Wan counted in his head quickly before pressing his forehead to his hand, the error making him flush, "Oh, I –"

"No bother." Qui-Gon chuckled, ruffling the boys spiky hair, "We have three or four, maybe five, six hours to gather them, and even more time assuming Quon will do a preliminary land scan first."

The Master's pause concerned Obi-Wan, sensing a contemplation in him as he scanned his surroundings. The Padawan was quiet, awaiting the words.

"Obi-Wan, you will go and gather them." It was a command, not a question, but Obi-Wan caught his Master's gaze for assurance.

"A-alone?" He stammered, and Qui-Gon only nodded, "My presence is still required here. I trust you're able to do such?"

"I . . ." Obi-Wan did not reply immediately. He did not understand. He was very much in awe, grateful at the gesture, His Master's trust was one thing he held the most dear, for Qui-Gon Jinn only extended such to a few souls, but this was the first time Obi-Wan would truly have to fulfill it. He was only fifteen, a young Padawan, entrusted with simple tasks. Ensuring the lives of a thousand beings were saved was quite an assignment, one Obi-Wan was reluctant to shoulder.

Just last week he, as well as a few other Padawan's his age, had been responsible to grow a few herbs as part of a horticultural project. Water them, feed them, and place them in the sun, all simple responsibilities. Obi-Wan was still dumbfounded how he could hade erred; after his third day with the tiny plants, they and wilted and died. Qui-Gon had proposed it hadn't been the lack of attention that had killed them, but the excess. Overwatering, too much heat.

Obi-Wan had been intensely embarrassed returning to the group with his yellowed, shrunken plants amongst the others lush greenery, but even more so at the fact of his error. An overachiever. It made him feel like a snobbish perfectionist, his failure of seeing things simply angering him still. Qui-Gon had not been disappointed in his mistake, but he had not been proud of it either. After studying the dried dirt and crumbling sprouts for a while, he had made it humorous, though Obi-Wan looked at his dead plants as a sign. How would his Master ever trust him if he could not even sustain a few seeds?

Yet, the command given to him at that moment. _Maybe Qui-Gon is giving me a chance to redeem myself_ , Obi-Wan pondered, meeting the man's eyes, wondering of he could possibly accomplish his wish without Qui-Gon's calm demeanor, his gentle encouragement, his steading spirit. _I must._

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan spoke through a huff of self-confidence, "What must I do?"

Qui-Gon gave a nod to a man in the bustling crowd before them, and a lieutenant by his trim navy suit took to his side, "Lieutenant Rveran, power up the cruiser."

The humanoid gave salute, rushing up the landing ramp as Qui-Gon continued, "I'll have this cruiser send you up; once there, you will have to venture insid eth caves and seek out the citizens. They are hidden well, but once you find them direct the women and children to the pick-up point around the highest peak. Once you find them all, meet them there and await the ships, for by that time the men will be off planet." He smiled then, reflections of faith in his blue eyes, "Are you confident, my apprentice?"

"Yes, Master. You have my word."

Qui-Gon set a hand on the young one shoulder, "I never doubted you, Obi-Wan."

The words were true from both of them, and Obi-Wan basked in the subtle praise, determine then to ensure the trust did not return void. A deep, elusive whisper spoke inside him, though, one he tried to ignore as he kept his Master's steady gaze, one he knew in his heart was never, ever wrong. One that was maybe the Force itself.

Obi-Wan said finally to his Master, which ensued another round of laughter from him, before hurrying into the ship, expressing his uncertainties in as droll of a tone as he could muster, "I have a bad feeling about this."


	3. Feelings Fulfilled

From the start of things, Obi-Wan could tell the bad feeling he had felt before he had entered the cruiser was not without reason, as it usually wasn't, not a passing wave or random blip in the Force. His instincts were very sharp when it came to sensing the possible future, or so Qui-Gon had told him, and they had never failed him before. During the entire ride to the Mountains and as he had stared at its massive height from below, ready to conquer his task, the Padawan had contemplated the feeling and had been determined not to let it hinder him. If he were to redeem himself, he could not allow a simple feeling destroy his chance.

After the sunset had fled Obi-Wan not even halfway during his trek up the Meronian Mountains, the darkness thick due to smoke and dust which whipped up into a storm not long after, his feeling had only been affirmed. And not only did the rain begin to fall, but began so suddenly that it had short-circuited his lightsaber, which Obi-Wan had been using as a light source, before he knew what had happened. As he stared frustratedly at his blackened weapon, he had recognized for not the first time that the Force was never wrong. Unfortunately for Obi-Wan, he also knew none of his planning or strategies could change that.

Once he had scaled the massive landmass and ventured into its winding labyrinth of caves tucked safely along the rock face, Obi-Wan had hoped the bad feeling had been limited to his already tough climb. He had realized, though, once he had searched the wide caves and found the first group hiding in a narrow tunnel, things were never bad enough. Their numbers were far too great. Somehow, as the Padawan did a population estimation before escorting the first group, there were way too many people. It seemed that with the rescue of each group that the estimated thousand citizens had doubled before Obi-Wan's eyes. At the query, which he had necessarily asked, a citizen had informed him that the refugees had spread out in the caverns for more room and the hidden nine groups had tripled to twenty-seven. Thus, his time finding them had multiplied threefold, and the bad feeling had only grown worse from there.

The refugee women, who only spoke and understood Meronian which made communication difficult, were weak from poor nutrition and traveled much slower than expected. The terrain was extremely rugged and prone to minor rockfalls, and the lack of lighting due to the storm and smoke separated mothers from children and Obi-Wan from groups. The tempest raged outside, the rainwater left the ground dangerously slicker and slicker with each passing group, the winds shoved them deeper into the caves and nearly off the cliffs, the temperature had drastically dropped since sunset to freezing and thus hypothermia was claiming them by the tens and hundreds.

Upon each arrival to the pick-up point, Obi-Wan had seen no sign of any rescue ships in the jet black sky. The cruisers had not yet shown themselves, perhaps due to the bad feeling once again, and after escorting all twenty-seven groups and waiting for two hours, Obi-Wan had begun to grow anxious. Detonations were sent their way on occasion, if only warning shots or target practice, but assault ships had begun patrolling. If they didn't arrive soon, Valor Quon's attack would begin full scale, and if the refugees were spotted, even in the shroud of night and rain, they would be a blatant target.

There they waited still, Obi-Wan pacing back and forth along the crowd of refugees, glancing to the sky every spare second and praying for deliverance. The mission was failing right before his eyes, whether he accepted it or not, all due to one feeling, all due to his lack of ability to handle it. The errors already made pulsed inside his mind in a tormenting rhythm, sharp like his error had on the day of his failed project, and Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as he stalked faster aside the citizens. He had to do this, restore his Master's trust, and make him proud, whatever it took. He had to accept his task, for he could not run to Qui-Gon's side, not then.

Obi-Wan imagined Qui-Gon strolling at his side, though, in the shallow dimness of the greyed sky, and the thought gave him comfort. He saw the Master as solemn, like he would be due to the situation, speaking gently in his tell-tale voice of calm, "By the will of the Force these things have happened, and you must not fight them. Do not focus on the problem . . ."

"But find the solution." Obi-Wan finished, looking over to the imagined mentor, who nodded, blue eyes smiling with an age old pride, "I never doubted you, Obi-Wan."

It was enough to drive him. It had to be.

Obi-Wan forced himself to slow his pacing, feeling the blisters he was creating in his rain-soaked boots, and he took a knee under the shadow of the overhanging stone out of the rain, fighting not to watch the sky; with a final look he turned to the crowd at his left and observed absentmindedly. The pick-up point, a smooth ledge shadowed by another small outcropping of stone, was considerable in size, big enough for three cruisers to land upon, and was a considerable height, hidden slightly by the surrounding crag. The refugees, huddled in a close bunch for warmth, fit just barely and were growing increasingly restless by the minute. Most of the women sat in small groups and spoke softly amidst the thundering storm, mothers hushing their frightened children curled on their laps and wrapped in their arms protectively from freezing winds.

Some of the braver little ones, though, ran about playfully in the frigid spray, cheeks pink from the dangerous cold and clothes soaked through; they slipped against the slick stone and giggled nervously at the roaring thunder. At a boom that made them jump and resounded deeply in the thin mountain air, Obi-Wan risked a glance to the sky hopefully, seeing only shrouding clouds and veins of cobalt lightning in the distance. He suppressed a curse.

He would rather see nothing than have attack ships heading their way, but rescue cruisers was what he prayed for. Qui-Gon Jinn was notoriously late, as already proven during their mission, but Obi-Wan knew the difference between punctual and tardy, between held up and held hostage, or shot down, or -

"Fi so li'rea?"

Obi-Wan turned, seeing a small Meronain girl at his side, dripping wet and studying him with a small smile, "Mer'a ie?" _Pardon me?_

He smiled softly as she bowed her head timidly, hands tucked behind her back, and whispered, "Ie li'rea. Ie si're ri heran." _I'm cold. I wish to go home._

Obi-Wan whispered to her gently before prodding her along to play again, "A'rie, a'rie, dru'en . . . ri me ev'reit."

_There, there, young one . . . it will be alright._

She nodded, just as a little one would do, and skipped off again with her friends. Obi-Wan wished to go as much as she, but even if the cruisers arrived he wasn't sure he could. He stood with a grunt, sore legs stiff, and counted the crowd again. He had already counted many, many times, if not to just ensure he was counting correctly. None of his double or triple checking could change reality.

 _Two thousand three hundred and forty-four._ The Padawan bit back the curse again.

They were missing one, just one, but one was enough to drive Obi-Wan mad. He hadn't enough time to search every hiding place inside the caves very thoroughly, and the inevitability of such happening was not out of the question. Twelve times, he had counted and come up with the same number, and he wasn't sure if it were the right one or not. Such miscalculation was not allowable.

Miscalculations were most often responsible for the collapse of a mission, as Qui-Gon had reminded Obi-Wan often. A misplaced coordinate here, a faulty fuselage gauge there. They seemed simple on their own, but when one handbreadth meant the success or downfall of a task, it was everything. He could not simply leave someone behind, but if Obi-Wan were to search, he would have to leave the citizens vulnerable, and with Quon's attack close at hand a wise decision it was not.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his wet hair, speaking to his Master through their bond, one they had closed partially in the fear of Valor Quon sensing such exchange. This was an emergency, though. He had no choice. _Master . . . please, hurry . . . listen to me, Master, no more of your games -_

Qui-Gon was closed off from him still, the boy could sense immediately, maybe not just for protection but to teach him a lesson. Obi-Wan cut off sharply then, not allowing himself any more frustrations. He would decide himself.

Obi-Wan stood at the forefront of the restless crowd and motioned them all to gather and listen, hands cupped around his mouth as he shouted, "Do'run ei'el t'real er'rein a tl'a ev'rior!"

_We must wait a bit more, my friends!_

The refugees cried back their complaints, which were plausible, for food or warmth or rest or rescue, but most were of the one thing Obi-Wan had no patience to hear: _el'vire_. El'vire, an avalanche. The refugees had thought the blasts that were heard and that touched down occasionally were the instigation of an avalanche, and Obi-Wan let them think that. Better this than a real thing to fear, Obi-Wan reassured to himself, better this.

At the crowds extensive banter, Obi-Wan whistled sharply until they silenced, impatience leaking through his tone, "Ve'rin ei'ren i el'vire. Ve'rin me ev'reit. Mar'i ten, i'ten, ie firean."

_Do not fear the avalanche. We will be alright. You must stay silent, deathly silent, until I return._

They complied at the cracking of thunder, even the children hushing, and Obi-Wan gave a nod before struggling down the ledge, nearly slipping against the sheer rockface of the niche, and running off. He told himself silent, I will find the missing one, no errors, no hindrance. He would not allow them.

Obi-Wan front flipped over a drop ahead, landing gracefully and never breaking his run, and did so for the following, scaling his way down the side of the mountain with Jedi precision. His lean, compact figure had always allowed him a particular ease in agility, in acrobatic like terrain training. His legs burned, growing pains mixed with strain and fatigue, but the Padawan called on the Force for strength and pushed them faster; he had trained for this, hours on end spent climbing obstacles and scaling walls, flipping from heights and sprinting into handsprings. His Master ever pushing him toward improvement, the one thing he always desired -

In his split-second distraction Obi-Wan miscalculated his next drop, landing dangerously along a thin edge which faltered his already stumbling footing and threatened to send him tumbling over the steep ledge. Obi-Wan pin wheeled his arms for balance and shifted his boots, trying not to focus on the dark, swirling abyss below him as he used the Force to shove himself back against the rough stone.

 _That was close._ He sat for a moment catching his breath, and in his hesitation noticed a blip of red light in the distance, coming closer. Relief washed over him in a smile, but in the appearance of another and yet another, Obi-Wan drew his brow. The flying formation was loose and wandering, and at that he rose and sprinted toward the tunnel opening tucked away ahead of him.

They were either searching attack shuttles or rescue cruisers. Either way, he had to hurry.

Wind whistled through the narrowing expanse of the tunnel as he reached it finally, and Obi-Wan jogged faster, recognizing the memorized landmarks - a jutted stone, a particularly large stalagmite - ahead and knowing he'd reached the former hiding places as he slowed upon the main tunnel.

As were all the many tunnels in the Meronian Mountains, this particular system was rugged, even more than the others. The main alcove cupped around him like a small dome as he approached, a perfect place for wind to blow and give chill, blue-black stone glistening around him like a giant mineral. Obi-Wan stood and waited, listening carefully for any noise, still as calm water, not scuffing a boot or even breathing for a moment.

 _Nothing_. He had already scanned each spot before ushering out the women, and was sure he found them all besides for the fact of the wrong population number. He had no time to waste with approaching cruisers. Obi-Wan turned to leave at the lengthy silence, but hesitated.

 _I cannot search now, I have no time . . ._ Obi-Wan's confidence flickered, and he looked back to the exit, so close . . . yet he could not go. If he were to complete his task, he would have to do it fully, even if it meant risking it all. Obi-Wan raced into the tunnel.

"No're al?!" Anyone here?! Obi-Wan shouted repeatedly as he ran along the labyrinth of caves, clearing through tunnel after tunnel as he sprinted hard, glancing over his shoulder in mid-stride in the chances of seeing out of the chasms, glimpsing the lightning continue to strike, sheets of freezing rain mist through, but no cruisers yet, not even Quon's, which reassured him. He could do it.

At a sudden sense of something pulse in the Force just as Obi-Wan was nearing the last few chambers, he slowed. The ground rumbled a threat, deep and coarse, and he listened for the sound of beings amongst the rain and thunder.

"No're al?" He cried, barely hesitating, the sound echoing back the depths of the tunnels, and Obi-Wan grew restless.

 _I'm wasting my time!_ One part of him said, while another whispered, _listen . . ._

"No're al-"

At a sharp, replying cry Obi-Wan took off in it direction, slippery wet boots pounding the hard stone rapidly. Distress permeated into the Force, as well as great pain, and he figured someone must have been injured and immobilized or trapped beneath a rockfall. He quickly reached the brunt of the short tunnel, unclipping his lightsaber and attempting to ignite it; the blade flickered to weak life, thank the Force. It saved him not only from darkness but another reprimand -

The light found a trembling figure huddled close in the corner of the small alcove, crying softly, and Obi-Wan gasped at her condition. In the blue light he could see her greying, pallid skin sheen with sweat, but he was sure she was hypothermic; she looked only to be a little more in age than he, and her dark eyes caught his like a frightened animal.

Obi-Wan approached her quickly, kneeling and placing a hand on her thin shoulder carefully and whispering despite the thunderous noises about them, piecing together Meronian phrases as best he could, "My name is Obi-Wan, I'm one of the Jedi warriors. I'm going to help you, alright?"

The woman closed her eyes and turned from him, and Obi-Wan could tell she was simply afraid, but her body language showed distress, though no blood or injury was in sight.

"Mir, fie'non ev'reit?"

_Miss, are you alright?_

The young woman only shook her head, racked by another sobbing cry, pulling closer to herself in fear.

"Mir, fie'non u'mon?"

_Miss, are you in pain?_

A nod before a cry, and despite Obi-Wan's aching hope her condition was becoming more and more apparent to him. She looked just about the right age, her frame was thin but her robes hung close near her midsection, her pain was sharp and deep, and he had no trouble sensing it.

The Padawan swallowed, forcing himself to speak again, discomfort audible in his voice, "Mir . . . fie'non l-lire . . . dru'en?"

_Miss, are you with child?_

She nodded. Obi-Wan's stomach twisted into a knot. He knew he needed to get her out quickly. He took a deep breath, speaking softly in Meronian to reassure her, "I'm going to help you escape."

The woman only stared at him, tears streaming from her eyes, soundless. It seemed as if she knew what would become of her. They both jumped a bit at a crack of thunder, and she spoke faintly then in Meronian, "El'vire . . ."

"I know. What's your name?"

"Eri'etta."

"Can you rise?" Obi-Wan asked, eager to get her medical attention, and she denied instantly.

"No. I was left behind to die. I am unfavoured by the others." Her words were faint with sorrow, and her dark eyes were glossy. Obi-Wan winced at her cry then, looking out of the tunnel concernedly, wondering if they even had a fraction of a chance of escape.

Their time was thinning with every passing moment, as well as their options. He would not be able to carry her over the terrain or for such a distance. In her condition, he doubted she could venture out, and doubted even more she could deliver her child and then venture out.

Obi-Wan realized there was no better options. They would have to take one of those chances.

"I need you to trust me." Obi-Wan touched the young woman's shoulder to catch her gaze once more, and she watched him carefully, "We have little time before the avalanche, and if you can walk for a while-"

Eri'etta gasped and clutched at Obi-Wan's sleeve, and her hand found his and held it, squeezing until the wave of pain ended. She closed her eyes and whispered in Meronian, "I cannot . . . please, help me . . . my child is close, you must help me . . . "

At her visible suffering, Obi-Wan nodded as he carefully set his weapon down behind them, unsurity eating at him as he slipped out of his robe and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows. The young woman removed her own and handed it to him, and he hesitated before taking it: it was damp, but the driest fabric available for a swaddle. She turned on her back, and Obi-Wan inhaled, summoning all of the emergency aid knowledge he had learned as an Initiate, all of the methods of healing Qui-Gon had taught him thus far, and he exhaled.

I never doubted you, Obi-Wan. He would do it. His Master's trust would be fulfilled.

The Padawan knelt before her bent knees and waited, the sweat beading on furrowed brow alike to the woman's own. They were both unsure, both young, both frightened. A fierce rumble shook their surroundings just as the woman cried out, and another subsequently just as furious.

Despite the knowledge of a close assault, Obi-Wan forced such distractions out of his focus, whispering encouragement to the woman as he watched her carefully.

"Alright, just . . ." He suddenly found it difficult to breathe, feeling faint at the sights and sounds of her pain; he had never been very good at stomaching certain things, and childbirth was certainly one of them. Obi-Wan swallowed, calling on the Force to soothe her as best he could as well as calming himself, "Focus, miss, you're doing fine . . ."

The woman's moan echoed amidst the rumbling, one tremor rough enough to jolt the boy backward; something had struck the mountain. Obi-Wan tried to hide the anxiety on his face, but the girl cried in fear as her pain lessened for moment, her breath a fog due to the chill around them, "Li ei'ren . . ." _I'm afraid._

"Ri tor ei'ren." _Have no fear._ Obi-Wan encouraged, though he was sure the space around them had only minutes left of stability and he felt dizzier than ever. Her next cry was serious, and Obi-Wan felt his face colour as he chocked, "T-the head, is -"

The woman screamed, piercing through the surrounding alcove, the threatening storm and the quakes tempting to cease them, out into the freezing night, and a burning cry of life followed and echoed with it. For a brief flush, the Force rippled, absorbing the new sensation, the birth. It brightened.

With a shuddering sigh, Obi-Wan caught the wailing infant in the Eri'etta's robe, looking to her with a genuine grin of relief and disbelief. He scarcely comprehended what had just occurred, and felt a strange rush run through him as he uttered, "It's a girl."

The young woman smiled very faintly, exhausted beyond compare, her own trembling worsened. Her breathes were strained as she managed to whisper, "Y'era . . ."

_Here . . ._

Obi-Wan swaddled the infant quickly to preserve its warmth, and he trembled in awe as he wrapped its fragile body. It was very, very tiny. He placed it gently on the stone floor, fumbling in his belt pocket for his multitool, and quickly severed the birthing cord before handing it to its mother.

Obi-Wan watched Eri'etta as she held her child near to her breast, her movements drawn out like a yawn. He could sense her aura in the Force as limp as splintered thread, and he dreaded what she said between her heavy breaths, though he could swear he had known all along.

"Li . . . so'ru. Fi rein lie . . ." _I'm sorry. Go on without me._

"No . . ." Obi-Wan denied her fiercely, rising slightly and taking one of her thin arms, as cold as ice, and prodding her upward, "We must go now-"

Her body could not bear her own weight, and she nearly collapsed before Obi-Wan released her back to the sheen, cold floor. She was too weak to stand. She was too weak to even breathe. He realized that Eri'etta was dying, this tiny alcove her coffin, and he her killer. She knew it too. It seemed, as she sat silently then, that she had known.

"No, no, I . . ." Obi-Wan sat aside her, breathes strained in regret - if he'd only checked before, ran faster, focused on his task - a boom made him jump again, and he felt a lump in his throat. I have failed.

There was no way they could make it out in time, before the caves gave in around them. The citizens would be shot, if not truly avalanched upon by falling debris, and if the cruisers were coming at all, they would leave empty handed. All these things swirled around in Obi-Wan's head as he stared at the dying girl, seeing his Master kneeling beside him then, grave as ever, just as Eri'etta looked upon her child, leaning close to its tiny ear and whispering tenderly in a delicate lullaby,

"So'ru ie lien

So'ru et lie

So'ru ie bien

So'ru ie bie

I'soru ie bien

Ie li'ru e li

I'caru ie bien

Bi'soru fie ie."

The translation filtered in Obi-Wan's mind as she sang,

_With sorrow, I lived_

_With sorrow, now lie_

_With sorrow, my love,_

_Much sorrow, I die._

_No sorrow, my love,_

_I give unto thee_

_Tomorrow, my love,_

_You must live then for me._

Her breaths were faint at the last stanza, and Obi-Wan forced his voice to speak without trembling as he whispered an apology to not just the woman, but to all he had let down, to Qui-Gon, to himself, "I'm sorry."

"Bi lari." _Thank you._ Eri'etta caught his blue-grey eyes and touched Obi-Wan's hand affectionately. The boy looked to it, thin and dirty, and wrapped his fingers around it as he accepted the child again, allowing the woman a last moment of comfort, of peace, before her end. He sent her a swell of soothing in the Force, and she lay back against the stone and closed her eyes.

"May the Force be with you . . ." He finished at the exchange, and he took off, not looking back as he ran. He let the woman go.

Blasts were the horrid new melody heard as he emerged from the tiny alcove, from large ships he figured, and nothing less than first class weaponry. Obi-Wan held the infant close to his chest as he pumped his legs, forcing himself to keep footing on the tough terrain, fighting through the darkness. He ducked, narrowly avoided a jutting rock face, seeing the tunnels grow less dark as he emerged toward the mouth of the caves, the flashing reflections of lighting in the distance instilling in him faint hope. Almost-

A roar ensued of crashing foundation just as the final stretch was before him, and Obi-Wan halted instantly as a stone touched down aside him, the wall to his left crumbling like dry sand. Desperately, he flung himself toward a clearing ahead and collapsed into a protective position, his arms bracing his head and the child tucked safely under him, just as everything fell apart. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to the Force with all his being to be saved.

The cave suddenly rocked around him, buffeting like an overheated hyperdrive, and Obi-Wan was tossed backward like a stone by a detonation, hitting the nearby wall that seemed harder than lead. The blast had come from outside, and the Padawan thought he heard screaming; in mid-air, a wretched upsurge chocked him, and he could feel life blip out in the Force all at once, yet all individually. Obi-Wan landed hard on the ground, only to be hit again by an overhead detonation, slamming him to the wall even harder than before. He held the bundle in his arms close as he was tossed again and again, and did not dare to let go. Even as the darkness took him, the bad feeling reaching its horrid climax, he did not let go.

 


End file.
